Best Whereupon Poems
A view of the ragged woodland from
The window:-
Slender branched trees that shed
From high above to low below;
The faint, mauven peaks
Smattered with barely visible
Scatterings of drifted snow;
Across the matted undergrowth
A bronzed carpet of copper coloured
Leaves
Whose rusting hue,
Momentarily ignited by stray
Sunbeams weakly smouldering,
Briefly refurbished -
Deceives with all the colours of a
Rainbow...
From vibrant red through to shy
Hints of indigo;
Those vague outlines indicating
Receding hills;
Here, arising, long ago, every waking
Dawning,
The creaking structures
Of groaning and imposing mills;
Soon a slow thawing that quickly
Spills
Into the trickling replenishments
Of many gushing and silvery little
Rills.
Enchantment gripped me!
And I found myself wistfully
Thinking...
Maybe, perhaps, maybe, somewhere,
Just behind where the great
Flattening Orb
Is now rapidly shrinking,
That I might, by perchance, find,
If I did so hope to bravely dare,
To happen upon a hidden and
Sedentary way of life up there?
That, forgotten, has turned its
Back on the social conflicts
Plagued by the curses of ingrained
Vice;
Encumbering a soul with its petty
Squabblings,
Imposing upon with demands and
Avarice...
When placing unnecessary burdens
On a honest bodies daily call
Of grinding toil and wearisome
Strife!
And still stood,
With hands outstretched upon the
Painted sill,
At the waist half-bent,
Now troubled by quiet mutterings
In an inexplicable sorts
Of self-imposed discontent,
My staid consciousness almost
Unawares,
As, momentarily distracted,
I hesitated, and, unseeing,
Inattentively stared...
Until...
A ragged chapter of cawing Daws,
Loudly jabbering overhead,
Suddenly wheeled -
And upwardly soared!
Whereupon, in murderous haste,
Awkwardly fled
When laboriously stealing away
Back inside the stubbled fields...
Thus causing me to slowly straighten;
Whilst, with a singular heartfelt pang,
Liken a moorland mist slowly rolling
Over
That indivisibly conceals...
Drew shut the sullen curtains, which,
Heavily embroidered with indeterminate
finality,
Dejectedly hang...
Each draped aside of the cold
Reveals.
I tracked along a silver trail
carved out from Earthly dust
by rays persistent in the dark
and midnight wanderlust.
It led me to a bubbling fount
of sulfurous mud and tar;
whereupon I chanced a glimpse
and found a fallen star.
An ancient from celestial realms
ensnared terrestrially
dimly glowing in the murk
I heard it sing to me:
Sojourner of the moonlit way
I sense thy beating heart
I’ve travelled from infinity
now hearken ere you part.
You roam upon this infant orb,
you draw from it thy life,
but I sense greed and evil scorn
and no land void of strife.
I beg you tell me how it came
that creatures such as thee
have found such hatred in thy souls
to punish endlessly.
It’s not so bad, I said out loud
we know of love as well…
as to the fate of mother Earth
I simply can’t foretell.
The ground beneath my weary feet
gave way to empty space
then all around me in the void
I saw the human race.
Starving children, ill and gaunt
were kicked by wing-tipped shoes.
Females ranging every clime
in silence nursed abuse.
In darkness men were plotting war
in light their banners raised
it mattered not which way I looked
some evil met my gaze.
Make it stop, I beg you please!
Why poison thou my mind?
What can I do to stop all this,
is no good left to find?
Sojourner of the moonlit way
I sense thy beating heart
I’ve travelled from infinity
now hearken ere you part.
You roam upon this infant orb,
you draw from it thy life,
and though you’re one of many men
love in thy chest is rife.
You must return to whence you came
you must confer abroad
the goodness that within thee burns
seek first to serve the flawed.
Think on the vast expanse of space
so empty, dark and cold…
and how despite the hopeless cause
star-light you still behold.
So too might thou, if you’ll but try
endure this awful plight
for in the vast expanse of hate
love is thy shining light.
07/16/15
Our Boogeyman
There is a boogeyman within
this home of ours, we swear he's here!
He comes and goes to mess with us
and bring about a silly fear.
It happens if we're here or not;
he seems to go from room to room
to keep us guessing why we see
phenomena that brings such gloom.
It has to do with lights, you see,
the kind you touch to turn them on;
somehow this boogeyman knows how
to toy with us, and whereupon,
we find our touch lamps brightly lit
in rooms, we enter while we're there.
But worst of all, to find them on
when we've been out, and such despair,
to wonder how that comes about??
For sure, it doesn't make much sense.
Do boogeymen have fingers that
can generate capacitance?
Sandra M. Haight
~4th Place~
Contest: Boogeyman
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 06/02/2016
True Story!
"Touch-sensitive lamps almost always use a fourth property of the human body -- its capacitance. [kuh-pas-i-tuh ns] The word "capacitance" has as its root the word "capacity" -- capacitance is the capacity an object has to hold electrons. The lamp, when standing by itself on a table, has a certain capacitance. This means that if a circuit tried to charge the lamp with electrons, it would take a certain number to "fill it." When you touch the lamp, your body adds to its capacity. It takes more electrons to fill you and the lamp, and the circuit detects that difference." http://science.howstuffworks.com
When fall’s chill fingers clasp the edge of dawn
to peel hot summer’s languid days away
the call of harvest beckons, whereupon
it yields rich crops in bountiful array.
A pageantry of richly colored trees
grace quiet landscapes on a country road
as pungent scents of spice and apples breeze
through sleepy fields where autumn’s spell unfolds.
Enchanted magic comes at crest of night
as jack o lantern’s wink and goblins laugh
where solemn graveyard spirits cause great fright
that chase away the living in its path.
With wonderment, embracing every part
the thrill of autumn’s richness warms the heart.
Written on 11/10/2019
Heated these shores, whereupon passion bears her grip...
A lady in love with another woman, and how can she deny this
Stirring deep inside racing through her veins the rapture, of her heart.
The soul is but a vast ocean of vigilance
Streaming with incresent colours towards life
Infinite within its parhelion possibilities
Relentlessly searching, betwixt the everflowing tides
Whereupon all things approach these providential probabilities
Of endlessly prolific visions thus beheld
Within the grasp of pristine pictures brushed and painted
Afore the overtures tubular bells; now sounding
Strewn, beneath the curatives silverish moon
Sirventes tunes, born, within fascinations bloom
These meant to be rhymes, amid Dorothy Gales times
Over somewheres prized amphoric rainbow
Arched imaginations, of fantasias floriferous creations
Breathing their pollinating light, within every breath that they breathe
Escaping the carcinogen caverns through torchbeared passages
Beyond the flesh rent falls and encumbering shawls
Carved crude, these animus meshed jackets
Encased within the chamber once laced
Unto broken bricks of concretes chained
Like Percivals plight....
Unmentioned between the lores, this wondering upon metaphoric shores
While barricaded by the calibrated stone engraved
Until antinomy could devise no more; yet
"If all we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream?"
Scream, and shatter these williwaws window panes
Awakening, beyond their oblique orbs of obscurities, void
To find 'The Holy Grail,' amid incarnadines blinding night
This veil removed, as clarity becomes now focused
Stepping from the shadows of the corners once webbed
Crossing, these sunsoaked sands of sunrises preached
With reaching hands, to touch the braille upon windings trails
Which only led back to the same gruesome pangs
Of a souls once upon a times, bound in maimed
Reading the writings on the wall, as cascading waters broke
The pinnacle of lost, tumbling and crashing to the reef
Belief, of a life breaking free from the dampened day
When faith became submerged beneath the assailant currents of
Hopes castaway possibilities....
Branded into their eyes, by the father of disguise
But no more as the clock struck three, and inversion, began to flee
Awakening from a dream, where nothing, was what it seemed
Dorothy Gales amphoric rainbow, draped upon a cross ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Percivals Promise!?
A soul is divine it is said,
by spiritualists, well read,
but what soul is, most have not seen,
who are by scriptures blindly led.
Detached hermits, whose needs are lean,
in staid stillness have felt soul’s sheen,
which we too can know, if we choose,
erst fears and desires, from heart wean.
With agape love as our heart’s muse,
following truth without excuse,
we then see soul, as light of God,
whence mind games no longer amuse.
Made in God’s image, soul’s a pod,
blooming when we give love our nod,
shining within, as living light;
revelation that leaves us awed.
Bliss drenched soul pulsates with delight,
humming gently by day and night,
as God’s essence, alive, aglow,
known when awakens inner sight.
Thus truth of soul, if we would know,
we must make first, our thought flow slow,
whereupon we see soul’s divine;
whence God guides us and we follow.
“Trust in the LORD*.” Such declares God’s sovereignty
Along His leadership as the supreme Almighty Deity---
We must bow to Him with humility
Submitting ourselves to His authority.
“Trust in the LORD.” Such affirms God’s greatness
Along His omnipotence while manifesting gentleness---
We must shine through His goodness
Consecrating ourselves to His graciousness.
“Trust in the LORD.” Such reverberates God’s warning
Along His rebuke against unbelief, doubting, and complaining---
We must repent with sincerity’s well-meaning
Yielding ourselves to His reigning.
“Trust in the LORD.” Such speaks of God’s demand
Along His precept attesting promises so grand---
We must meditate His Word, whereupon we stand
Dedicating ourselves to follow His command.
“Trust in the LORD.” Such asserts God’s compassion
Along His mercy upon us during our affliction---
We must abide in His will midst COVID19 situation
Laying ourselves to His perfect and wise action.
“Trust in the LORD.” Such announces God’s requirement
Along His statute for us to show our joyous fulfillment---
We must comply to His faith-building agreement
Committing ourselves to His soulwinning-empowerment.
“Trust in the LORD.” Such assures God’s victory
Along His triumph in our obedience to proclaim Gospel story---
We must rely on His might while praying to overcome worry
Surrendering ourselves to His control for His glory.
*Psalm 73:28 …It is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord GOD, that I may declare all thy works.
March 21, 2020
“we look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know
yet come what may, our inner child continues to play”
The 'umbilical cord',
hereby symbolic,
its severance
where
initiated,
a soul of three,
and then much more.
Growing up was an
in-depth shared
furtherance,
whereupon,
directives were encountered,
either embraced or tossed aside.
Time and again, instant moments,
encouraging considerations,
imbued ponderance,
whereto,
we tether ourselves
to a sizeable pole of justifications.
Hail to a fitness club, or a cab to a McDonald's,
intermittent intervals, slim down or fatten up,
choice batters about a pole that remains,
until life expectance,
leans awkward,
wherefore
for time indulgence,
slacks a major facet as the pole evolves minor,
for one's immediate concerns, lies elsewhere, a priority.
All the while, the pole was steadfast but never silent
taking a backseat to the urgencies of the moment
significance tallies the hours near,
wherein
one now realizes that time is fleeting,
wonders how one's pole has shaped itself, was it worth their while.
At that instant, open their eyes
and see the poles that are
standing around them
bedside so they can
measure their
worth truly.
Where
we mete
out ourselves
to whom we truly
Blessed Assurance.
Invoking bliss magnetism, let heart sing,
aware at all times of this simple fact:
the idea or thought is not the thing,
of the fruit we taste and deeds we enact.
We are merely one of the many forms
manifest upon this earth realm dual,
wherein each entity goes through life’s storms,
suffering unless love be soul’s fuel.
Futile and needless are ego spawned tricks,
deludedly engaging in doership,
since it’s love alone that resolves conflicts,
so let heart’s mindfulness be our worship.
Behold birds cross hemispheres without fear ~
Our heartbeat signals God’s presence is near
Our heartbeat signals God’s presence is near,
warming this form made of organic dust,
so by lending strobes of silence our ear,
in time love replaces animal lust.
In our life, needless is struggle and strife,
for at end of days, love alone remains,
so if we but let God be the midwife,
soul’s liberated from ego spawned chains.
In silence there is no energy leak,
enabling God’s spirit to manifest,
so getting out of our way, so to speak,
as witness consciousness we simply rest.
Nothing need be done, save coming undone ~
Recognise dear heart, God and we are one
Recognise dear heart, God and we are one,
simply feeling His breath in us that flows,
restoring our light, shining like the sun,
repaying debts of love, which our soul owes.
All doings are done by God’s hand alone,
wherein all He asks is that we be still,
awestruck beholding inner light full blown,
whereupon all dark voids within us fill.
Just as we’re immersed in dreams every night,
shrugging it off on waking at sunrise,
from this world too, one day we will alight,
if we but release each offered surprise.
Dwell not overmuch on soul’s broken wing ~
Invoking bliss magnetism, let heart sing
The flame of awareness is held by God,
which we cognise when fickle mind is still,
that ego vaporised, frigid heart thawed,
dove of love perches on soul’s window sill.
There is in truth nothing we need to do,
save remaining poised in the vibrant void,
mindfully sensing throb of bliss renew,
revealing our pristine Self unalloyed.
Thoughts are the blockage and once we know this,
feeling, not thinking, head and heart linking,
we are bestowed by Divine Mother kiss,
shifting us to awareness unblinking.
The difficulty is in letting go ~
Ego recedes when flow of thought is slow
***
Ego recedes when flow of thought is slow,
which reworded means we cease to exist,
save as a love mist reflecting God’s glow,
melding with vast space, ceasing to resist.
Now since we do not wish to disappear,
we continue flirtation with desire,
dwelling in darkness and harbouring fear,
remaining thus in bondage till we tire.
On realising there’s nothing out there,
we finally stop struggling and striving,
turning inward and becoming aware,
of lower mind and ego conniving.
For God it is enough, that we seek Him ~
It matters not if sight of soul is dim
***
It matters not if sight of soul is dim,
provided our heart is childlike and pure,
by day and night singing for God a hymn,
weeding away lust, making soul demure.
What happens then is this, suffused with bliss,
all nodes within form dance in unison;
the serpent rises, with a benign hiss
and we reclaim light of the central sun.
Our transmutation thus as living light,
is done when we choose with God to entwine,
whereupon we’re graced with spherical sight
and with His law of love gently align.
Beholding soul’s light within, we are awed ~
The flame of awareness is held by God
From a garden I would seek
a flower so much more unique,
something quite sophisticated,
leaves lovers much intoxicated.
This thought distressed my heart to sigh
which told my mind my eyes would die
and thus invite ten tons of woes
if they praise not, the lovely Rose.
I love the Rose in all its hues -
The yellow, pink, white for my muse.
One image though quite bold and mighty
the Blood Red Rose of Aphrodite.
The Blood Rose is passion's prose,
Mary’s heart bled in repose;
the symbol of undying love,
as much of life, of peace…is dove.
Sweet, and quite of regal bearing,
odd, the thorns make it endearing.
My one request upon my death -
scent of a Rose, be my last breath.
Note: Legend has it that Aphrodite, in her haste to go to her dying beloved Adonis, trod upon the thorny bush of a white rose, whereupon her sacred goddess blood turned it into a deep color red.
09 November 2015
Favorite Flower Contest - 2nd Place
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
A most unfortunate event
has occurred at our house.
It's embarrassing to admit,
We have a resident mouse.
The elusive little devil
has avoided every trap.
Though set in various places,
we've yet to hear a snap.
We have a playful tomcat
who loves his toy mouse,
carries it clutched in his teeth
to flip, toss and pounce.
Unfortunately, he performs
the same with a live one.
I'm urging, "Get it, kill it,"
he's too busy having fun.
Again and again he turns
it loose, enjoying the chase.
The mouse runs for his life,
hopeful of winning the race.
The crafty little victim
eludes the slothful brute,
scuttles down a heat vent,
leaves Tom to other pursuits.
Whereupon he saunters around,
searching for his toy mouse.
We're left with a useless cat
and a mouse in the house.
~“Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not."
- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 3.3
~Blind am I to be of love?
Here be mortal eyes, seeing with mine heart.
Whereupon earth, I behold her at all times.
There in deep pools, from pebble tossed,
the rippling flow of her hair.
There, where lies the dew upon the buds.
Her moist red lips awaiting my favor.
In the courtyard fountain's purl,
tis the beauty of her laughter.
All about me is her visage,
from waking morn, to deep twilight.
Even the moon does look upon me.
Gently caressing my face
and does kiss me with her light.
Blind to love I cannot be.
Not when her love is my world,
my eyes,
my heart,
my very being.~
For the contest, Romeo And Juliet; How Tragic Love Is
Always having a problem with dairy,
having adverse side effects pretty fairly,
but being deprived of ice cream is just too much,
whereupon walking down frozen desserts aisle I got a hunch,
I daydreamed I was an ice cream queen,
making ice cream solely out of using soybeans,
helping people with lactose intolerance everywhere,
while helping to make my family and I millionaires,
It would come in all kinds of flavors,
pistachio, chocolate ribbon, anything you favor,
strawberry is the flavor that I would savor,
with nothing artificial on the ingredient label,
Then "poof" my daydream was all gone,
seeing some So Delicious ice cream made me feel undone,
returning home with my soy based vanilla ice cream,
just a middle class lady with a craving and a daydream.
1-14-17